Steve Rogers x Reader Smooth Criminal
by Fuzzelball
Summary: Steve has to prepare for a mission, but unfortunately, this one involves a lot of dancing. So, to ensure the success of said mission, Fury sends Steve to an expert: YOU!


"Are you serious, sir?" Steve asked warily.

Fury scrutinized him. "Yes, I am, Captain."

"Sir, with all due respect, I can't-"

"You will learn to," Fury interrupted harshly. "Agent (L/n) will instruct you. She's an expert."

And so, Steve was dismissed, sent off to learn something that made him feel slightly uneasy.

He stood in front of a gym in the heart of New York, taking a deep breath before entering. The receptionist looked up with a smile, but his face turned serious upon seeing Steve standing in the door. He gazed around, making sure no one was listening to them, before turning back to Steve. "Agent (Y/n) is already waiting for you, Captain."

He motioned Steve to follow him, leading him down a hallway and finally into a room with a giant mirror wall. On the wall opposite, as well on the mirrored one, were rails, probably to hold onto. And there, in the middle of the room, she stood, clad in (f/c) comfortable clothes on the hazelnut-brown parquet.

"Hey, Steve. How are you?" she asked, grinning brightly at him.

"Hey, (Y/n), I'm fine," he murmured while looking around awkwardly. Steve didn't fear it, but since he'd never done it before, dancing with someone he had a crush on slightly triggered his anxiety.

"You sure?"

"Yeah…"

"Never danced before."

He looked up to her. "How-"

"You're watching your environment as if you fear someone jumping out any moment. Well, that and the conversation with Fury I 'overheard'."

"Well… yeah, I've never danced before." He sighed. "I think it must suck for you to teach an over-ninety-year-old how to dance."

"No, why? There's not much I can teach you anyway."

"What do you mean?" He remembered all those times when Bucky tried to teach him several dances. He either failed to remember the steps or to do them at the right time. It drove both of them insane.

"Well, dancing is actually quite simple. It's all about the rhythm. If you have a feeling for that, you can do any dance." With that, she walked up to a stereo he hadn't seen in the first place, switching it on. Immediately, the unmistakable tones of Michael Jackson's 'Smooth Criminal' echoed from the walls. She hopped back to stand next to him again.

He watched her. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Just move to the music. It doesn't matter if it looks good or bad. Just move your body to the song."

_As he came into the window_  
_It was the sound of a crescendo_  
_He came into her apartment_  
_He left the bloodstains on the carpet_

Steve started moving around awkwardly. He hadn't the slightest hint of an idea what to do. He moved even slower, watching his personal instructor moving to tones of the song.

_Annie, are you ok?_  
_Will you tell us that you're ok?_  
_There's a sign in the window_  
_That he struck you - a crescendo, Annie_  
_He came into your apartment_  
_He left the bloodstains on the carpet_  
_Then you ran into the bedroom_  
_You were struck down_  
_It was your doom_

There was no doubt as to why she was called the best dancer in the whole organization. She moved just perfectly in time and could even sing along to the song.

Around the middle of the song, (Y/n) finally noticed that Steve wasn't moving at all anymore. She turned to him, seeing him watching her.

"Steve, you're okay?"

He just nodded.

"So, why aren't you dancing?"

"Because I can't."

"Steve!"

Her shouting his name remembered him strangely of the tone of his superiors in the army. He unconsciously stood even straighter.

"If you say just one time again that you can't dance, I'll tell everyone at SHIELD that you're wearing pink pj's and have a stuffed bear named Fridolin, without which you can't sleep."

"But that's a lie!"

"I can be very convincing, you know." She smirked.

Meanwhile, the song had ended and they were play-glaring at each other. Steve knew she would do tell everyone this story if he wouldn't do as she said. He knew that because she once even said that Clint was still wetting the bed when he had eaten the last cookie right in front of her, almost provoking her to do it. She wasn't making empty threats. And so, he gave up.

"Fine, but it does look stupid, and you know that."

"Yes, it does, but that's because you're standing there like this." She stood next to him, swaying from side to side and holding her arms close to her body, just like Steve had. "You have to let go." In one fluid movement, she stretched her arms and turned her head to one side, strikingly resembling the King of Pop.

"Easy for you to talk, you know every possible existing move."

"Yes, but I've never had any lessons or anything for that matter. It's instinct, Steve."

Steve only huffed and looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. (Y/n) was still watching him. "Just let go. Dance like nobody's watching. There's nothing embarrassing about it. I do it, too. It may look good, but that's just because I'm doing this for about half my life, that's all."

Steve slightly relaxed. "Okay, I'll try."

(Y/n) started the same song again and both started dancing, Steve being much less inhibited. She watched him in the mirror, mimicking his moves in a much more professional manner.

At the last part of the course, however, Steve didn't pay attention to his feet anymore, slipping and falling on his side.

(Y/n) was at his side in an instant. _"Stevie, are you okay?"_

Smooth Criminal is not mine.

Also: For the ones who care, I go bythe German promounciation of the name of Steve's non-exsisting teddy bear, which is 'Free-doh-leen'


End file.
